


The Taste of Flight

by flammablehat



Series: March Madness Personal Challenge! [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: First Time, Frottage, Hand Feeding, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10133153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/pseuds/flammablehat
Summary: “Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”― Leonardo da Vinci





	

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4 of the [fluffy prompt post](http://rougherandtumblier.tumblr.com/post/157838391955/30-fluff-tropes): making breakfast. 
> 
> Takes place immediately after the Cup of China.

Yuuri wakes up to a plate being set on his belly. 

“Whu—” he says, half sitting up. A hand grabs his shoulder, steadying. 

Yuuri blinks, reaches for his glasses, and Viktor resolves in front of him — smiling as he pops a strawberry into his mouth. 

“Good morning,” he says. “I made you breakfast.” 

Yuuri looks down at his plate: a generous scoop of berries, a still-steaming pile of fluffy scrambled eggs, an English muffin with butter slowly melting into its crevices, and a cup of vivid orange juice in Viktor’s hand. 

“Did you order room service?” Yuuri asks, confused. Viktor pouts.

“Yuuri, you wound me,” he says, stealing a raspberry. “Are you going to eat?”

The answer to that question is yes. Yuuri is _starving_. Everything after his free skate had been a blur, the typical rush of activity spun into a new and dizzying tornado by Viktor’s kiss. Even the post-competition press meeting hadn’t quite known where to start with Viktor draped against Yuuri's side, visibly preening. Not for lack of good talking points, mind, but rather a distracting overabundance of them. 

After dispensing with the awkward interviews, they’d moved to celebratory dim sum with Chris, Phichit, Guang Hong, Leo, and Georgi, where Yuuri’s attention had been only semi-regrettably monopolized by his friends. 

Chris’s sly insinuations had vacillated between mournful and delighted; he'd walked his fingers up Yuuri’s arm just to see him blush furiously while Viktor looked on, smug. 

Phichit had pulled him aside when Viktor, Georgi, and Chris were distracted taking shots, tugging Yuuri along to hover in the corner near the bathrooms. His eyes had been huge with questions, and Yuuri could only shrug, lifting his hands in a gesture of pleased bewilderment as a grin stole across his face. Phichit threw his arms up with a triumphant laugh, swinging Yuuri around in a giant hug and slapping him on the back. 

They returned to the table with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders, and Viktor met Yuuri’s eyes like he’d been looking for him — something pleased and anticipatory in his expression. Phichit pinched his shoulder and let him go. 

After that had been the cab back to the hotel, and from there up to the room, and from there… falling face first into bed and passing out. 

Now, with the anxiety of the competition fading away, Yuuri’s hunger finally catches up to him. Viktor sits on the bed by his hip, crossing a leg over his knee and watching as Yuuri tucks in, humming happily around his fork. 

“Thank you for breakfast,” Yuuri says, a touch abashed at his own manners. He’s saved his blackberries for last because they’re plump and sweet. He’s a little put-out when Viktor plucks one off his plate, but figures there are probably more with the room service tray and Viktor is worth giving up a perfect blackberry for. 

Viktor presses the berry to Yuuri’s bottom lip, and Yuuri’s gaze snaps up so fast it almost makes him dizzy. 

Viktor’s eyes are on him. He presses a little harder — it doesn’t take much for the skin to start splitting, juice staining Yuuri’s lip, sweet against his teeth. When Yuuri opens his mouth to accept it, his tongue grazes Viktor’s thumb. 

Viktor takes Yuuri’s plate and sets it next to the lamp. 

“Do you want to talk?” he asks. His tone is uninflected, neutral. His gaze is anything but. 

“No,” Yuuri says. 

Carefully, Viktor lifts Yuuri’s glasses off his face and sets them next to his plate. 

Then he yanks Yuuri in by his nape, their mouths coming together hot and open. Yuuri twists out from under his sheets, Viktor’s hands gripping a thigh and steadying him at the ribs — in the next moment Yuuri is in his lap, knees on either side of his hips. 

Viktor’s hands are slim and elegant and deceptively strong, skimming inside the back of Yuuri’s pajama bottoms and helping himself to two firm, enthusiastic handfuls. Yuuri’s breath stutters, shock confusing his lungs, as Viktor sucks a bite into the corner of Yuuri’s jaw and he crushes Yuuri up against his stomach. 

“Come on,” Viktor says, tugging at Yuuri’s waistband to get the worn cotton over his hips. Impatient, his hands tighten and he gives a sudden jerk, ripping the pants in half at the seams. 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri whispers.

Misunderstanding, Viktor promises, “I’ll buy you new ones.” His tone is sweet and he’s got a hand at the small of Yuuri’s back, supporting him as he lifts up and tugs his own trousers down just enough. 

His eyes don’t leave Yuuri’s as he spits into his palm and wraps a hand around them both. 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri says again, weakly. “I’m not — this isn’t going to last long.” 

Viktor hisses, baring his teeth before he tightens a hand in Yuuri’s hair and drags him into another kiss. It’s sharp and wet and so fucking hot Yuuri can’t help himself — he throws his arms around Viktor’s neck and _rides_ his grip. The noises he spills into Viktor’s mouth make him sound like he’s breaking. 

He’s so desperate it takes him past shame, outside of its withering reach to something clear and new. It feels like flying, like hurtling head first into a pleasure so steep he actually stops breathing, his cock glazing the ring of Viktor’s twisting fingers with his come. 

Viktor gasps like he’s been punched, his wet hand snaking around Yuuri’s hip and pulling him in tight, giving up on jerking them off in favor of grinding desperately against Yuuri’s skin. 

“Wait,” Yuuri chokes out, but Viktor’s already gritting through a string of curses, heat spreading between them. 

Yuuri pushes out of Viktor’s hold, dropping more heavily between his legs than he intended but too high to feel the pain of his knees hitting the floor. 

He catches Viktor’s cock in his mouth before it’s finished spurting, and the sound Viktor makes is worth every fall, every injury, every embarrassment Yuuri has ever endured on the ice. 

Yuuri tastes a blend of them both, layered over the sweetness of Viktor’s mouth and, beneath that, blackberries. His groin clenches at the soft impact of one or two final strings of come hitting the back of his tongue. 

Viktor’s hand is shaking as it pushes Yuuri’s hair out of his face. 

Sitting back on his heels, Yuuri runs his tongue over his upper lip. Viktor’s brow pinches like he’s in pain, his thumb following the wet sheen on the bow of Yuuri’s mouth. 

“I’m conflicted,” he says after a moment, hoarse. 

Yuuri’s eyes must get big with the sudden stab of unease he feels, because Viktor cups his cheek in his hand. “Our flight to Moscow leaves in two hours. Which means in almost eleven hours’ time, I can have you in my bed again,” he explains. “Or—” he tilts his head, considering, “—I could cancel our flight and keep you here.” 

“Don’t you have an interview scheduled when we get in?” Yuuri asks, confused. 

Viktor stills, and then his face pinches, because he’d clearly forgotten. 

“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” he groans. 

“Who said we had to?” Yuuri asks, thinking of eight and a half hours in the first class cabin Viktor had insisted upon upgrading to after the mild inconvenience of their economy flight to China from Hasetsu. There are locks on the lavatory doors for a reason, as far as he’s concerned. 

Viktor blinks at him until the penny drops. 

“You are a menace to my health,” he says, hauling Yuuri back up onto the bed. “Don’t you know my heart can only take so much?”

Yuuri laughs, euphoric.

**Author's Note:**

> I missed yesterday due to some family stuff, but fortunately there are 31 days in March and the fluffy prompt post is only 30 prompts long. ^_^ 
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rougherandtumblier)!


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